I'm too sexy for my pants

The annoying thing about starting off a pregnancy fat is that there is this really long period where you just look really fat instead of pregnant. Since my uterus is all stretched out already (nice image eh?) it popped out much quicker than it would for a 'normal' woman with one baby in her abdomen. That's nice because I like looking pregnant when I am since I can't have the words "I'm pregnant" tattooed across my forehead, what with the "I have triplets" banner already there.

But I just look fat. Because a baby bump under 3 inches of fat layer? Just jiggles like fat. And looks like a beer belly. I can look generally guessably pregnant if I wear a maternity top. The empire waist ones specifically, because the drape gives it a better shape. I also have to be careful not to wear anything with a tight waistband because then I get the delightful double roll look. But if I wear maternity pants with the stretchy band waist, I can create a smoother rounder look that impersonates a pregnant belly. But it ain't great.

And I'm at the stage where everyone knows better than to ask because it isn't grindingly clear that I'm pregnant. That only reaffirms my belief that some people think I might just be fat in a really strange pot bellied way. Good lord, if I'm ever fat and only in my belly region? Just shoot me. At least I should get some pleasure of beer drinking if I'm going to have a beer belly. Not that I like beer.

I'd also like to ask the gods how we could not have invented a pair of maternity pants, in this highly advanced society with all sorts of manmade stretchy materials that suck and tuck and tighten and tone and so on, that actually STAYS UP??? I mean I am walking down the street looking like some damned hoodlum idiot teenager because I'm all step, step, step, HIKE, step step step, HIKE with these damned pants. It is not attractive for a woman to be yanking her pants back up every 3 steps. And so my style-o-meter score has dropped yet again. And we didn't have far to fall. And at home? I'll be damned if I'm going to wear pants that fall off with every move I make. So I have resorted to constantly wearing 'leisure' pants again. Just like when I had newborns.

Makes me look hot for the mailman for sure.

That and the food stains and snot slime marks on my shirts.

I feel hot. Just sexy as all get out.

The queen makes her demand

Sometimes I wish the words "Triplet Mom" were tattooed on my forehead. At least then people would understand why I stood there with my greasy pony tailed hair, stained t-shirt (my husband's since I don't fit into my own), tattered jeans with front butt and flip flops displaying my way beyond non-manicured toenails. I mean I want to wear a medal or something that I even got out of bed this morning and instead these people just think I'm a flake or some sad fashionless idiot who has no idea how bad she looks! That's just not fair. I suffer. Greatly. Daily. And nightly. Right?

No, it's funny the dichotomy of a multiples parent when it comes to attention. I'm sure I don't speak for all of them but I'm sure I'm not the only one who has two different reactions to attention depending on how it's given. First, I hate the people who are dumb enough to say things like 'you poor thing' or 'you sure have your hands full' and far, far stupider things that you would be surprised to hear if you are not a multiples parent. I mean the very fact that having more than one baby at a time somehow gives people the right to inquire how I got pregnant in the first place makes you want to smack your forehead a little bit. I want to know why I don't get the congratulations, the 'how wonderful' that 'normal' pregnant and new moms get. (Except from the Asian community, which I love, because not only do they think it's fantastic that I have three babies, three being a magical number, but that two of them are boys, how lucky could I get?) So, obviously, this is the negative side of attention that had me wishing we were invisible when I walk my huge stroller down the street.

But then there's the other side of the coin. The side that had me strolling past Robin Williams' house daily with my triple decker stroller, when the babies were just infants, hoping he might look out the window and run across the street because he wanted to 'do a bit' on the ridiculous stroller or the realities of having multiples. That's the part of me who wants to always wear a shirt that somehow announces that I have triplets so that unaware people might make their shocked comments about how great I look (even if they do tack on 'for a lady with triplets.') It's the part of me who, at my mothers day dinner, made sure the waiter knew I had triplets, and pretty much anywhere I go finds a way to bring triplets into the conversation so I can show them a picture on my iphone. I mean, there is a little attention whore inside of me who I do not recognize!

Oh yeah, look at me, look at me!

Actually, I do recognize her. She's the one who planned my wedding and wanted everyone to know it was my wedding day and made sure that it was all about me and that beautiful dress walking down the aisle. Oh yes, I remember her. She's the one who also would love someone to take me to a Mexican restaurant, put that stupid sombrero on my head and sing me the happy birthday song just so everyone know's it's my birthday. I have to admit. I am quite familiar with this side of me. But since I've had triplets she's been more present than not, because I was only a bride-to-be for a year, only have a birthday once a year, and was only pregnant for 9 months. I am a triplet mom every stinkin' day and I want credit dammit.

Where's my crown?